Sybbie, Tom, and the Princess
by PrincessOfOz
Summary: Modern-day AU. Sybbie asks Tom where her mother is, and Tom doesn't give the best answer.


_So this Fic is based on an episode of Modern Family (Open House of Horrors), where Cam and Mitch's daughter asks Cam where her mother is. This is my first time writing for Sybil/Tom, so no flames please._

_I do not own Downton Abbey or Modern Family. _

* * *

_RRIIIIINGG. RRRIIINGG._

"Daddy, the phone's ringing!"

_RRIIIIINGG. RRRIIINGG._

_ "_Daddy..."

"Then answer, it love!" Tom called. It was Thursday morning, and he was standing at his kitchen counter trying to decide if he could make the sliced turkey stretch to make both of them turkey sandwiches for lunch. Judging by the digital clock on the microwave, he had about three minutes to make this decision before they would be officially late for school.

Tom stared at the the three measly slices of turkey, then at the bread he had neatly laid out on the breadboard. What other sandwiches did Sybbie eat? Cheese? _No, Sybbie can't stand cheese sandwiches,_ he thought. _She'll eat them, but then she'll whine when she gets home._ He looked up at the microwave. Two minutes. He cursed under his breath. Looked like today was going to be another vending machine lunch day for him.

"Branson residence, may I please ask who's speaking?" said Sybbie into the phone as Tom laid out the slices of turkey on Sybbie's bread. He smiled to himself. At four years old, Sybbie already had impeccable manners, a trait that surprised guests.

"Hi, Auntie Edith!"

Tom's smile flipped into a frown. It wasn't that he didn't like his sister-in-law; he liked Edith very much. It was just that he wasn't kidding about being late for school, and 7:50 in the morning wasn't a good time to deal with the latest Downton drama.

"Yes, he's here," Sybbie continued. She turned to Tom. "Daddy, Auntie Edith wants to talk to you."

"Okay, love," he said, zipping up Sybbie's pink lunchbox. "Sybbie, go wait by the door while I talk to your Auntie." He handed Sybbie the lunchbox and reached for the phone with his other hand. "Edith?" he said as Sybbie scampered into the hall.

"Tom! Hi!"

"Hey, Edith. What is it?" He craned his neck to look at the clock one last time. Yep. They were officially late for school.

"I need to know what costume Sybbie is wearing for the Halloween party. It's for a game. You're still coming, right?"

Oh, yes. The annual Downton Abbey Halloween party. In the previous years, he and Sybbie had spent Halloween in Ireland with his family, and he had avoided the Halloween party like the plague. This year, though, Halloween fell on Saturday, and he had somehow been coerced into attending.

"Umm...yes, we're still going. I bought plane tickets," said Tom.

"Great! So what costumes are you two wearing?"

"Well, Sybbie's going as a pirate—"

"No I'm not, daddy! I'm going as a princess!"

"Love, I'm talking on the phone," said Tom. Sybbie was leaning on the doorframe of the kitchen, with a petulant look on her face. "And sweetie, you told me you were going as a pirate."

Sybbie shook her head fiercely "I changed my mind. I want to be a princess!"

Oh, God. Tom really didn't have time for this now. "Actually, she's going as a princess," he said into the phone. Sybbie smiled and ran back to the door. "Or a pirate," he said quietly to Edith. "I don't think she's made up her mind yet, but we are going to the costume store tonight."

"Well, that's fine. And what about you?"

"What? I'm not wearing a costume."

"Tom, it's Halloween party!" The last word was shouted through the phone over the rumbling on Edith's end of the line. Tom figured she must be in the tube station. Edith worked on a newspaper, like him, only she was a columnist. She had always fancied herself as a writer, so a few years ago, on a whim, she sent in a column when The Guardian was hiring. They had liked her writing style, and now she was a daily columnist and expecting her first child with Anthony Stralland.

"Oh, Tom, I've got to run. See you on Saturday! And don't forget a costume!" The rumbling decreased and was replaced by clattering and a faint, automated message on Edith's end. Tom hung up the phone, ran to the door, rushed Sybbie into the car, and promptly forgot about the phone conversation.

* * *

"So Sybbie, we're looking for a pirate costume, right?" said Tom. He surveyed the long rack of alphabetized children's Halloween costumes. Ninja...octopus...prince...here we go, pirate costume. He grabbed the costume, then showed it to Sybbie. "Love, do you like it?"

Sybbie shook her head. "No!" she exclaimed. "I want to be a princess!"

_This again?_ Tom's mind flitted back to the conversation he had this morning. "Sybbie, you told me on Monday you wanted to be a pirate. It was all you talked about, remember?" he said, shaking the pirate costume.

"No! I want to be a princess! I have to be a princess! Like mummy is!" Sybbie's voice was getting louder, and a few customers began to turn their heads.

_What? What is she saying? Who told her about Sybil?_ "Sybbie," said Tom, kneeling down so he was eye level with her, "Please keep your voice down. And what do you mean your mummy's a princess?"

Sybbie gazed up at Tom. Her big blue eyes—Sybil's eyes—were wide and innocent. "Daddy, you told me. Last night. You said mummy was a princess in a far away land."

"No Sybbie, I didn't—" And then the events of last night hit Tom like a giant sack of bricks.

**WEDNESDAY NIGHT, AROUND 7:45**

_"And then the handsome Prince married the beautiful Princess, and they lived Happily Ever After." Tom ended the story with an enormous yawn and he slapped the book shut. God, he was exhausted. Today had been ridiculously busy. He had to wake up at 5:30 to get to an interview, and then he had to work through his lunch break and wasn't home until 6:00. Right now, he would have loved nothing more than to collapse into bed, but there was a pressing matter he had to attend to—the matter of reading little Sybbie a bedtime story to get her to sleep._

A matter_, he thought, _that was finally over_. "And now," he yawned, "it's time for my little Princess" —he blinked a few times, to stop himself from completely descending into slumber— "to go to sleep." _I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes_, he thought. _Just a few minutes...

_"Daddy?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Why is Auntie Edith so fat?_

_Begrudgingly, Tom cracked open one eye. It seemed like his little girl wasn't ready to sleep after all. "Because she is going to have a baby and it's in her tummy," he said. He closed his eye._

_"Did my mommy carry me in my tummy?" asked Sybbie._

_"Yep," said Tom, eyes still closed. He snuggled deeper into the bed._ Wow, these stuffed animals are really comfy_. "For nine months...you were in her tummy."_

_"Daddy, where did my mummy go?"_

_A tiny bolt of realization hit Tom's brain, that maybe he should actually sit up and talk to Sybbie. Unfortunately, that bolt had to do battle with his sleep-addled brain, and lost._

_"Your mummy is not here right now," he mumbled sleepily. He really wished Sybbie would stop talking and go to bed like a good little girl so that he could have some quiet._

_"Why?"_

_Tom groaned quietly and slowly propped himself in a slightly sitting-up position. "Because she is..." he fingered the princess book that was still in his hands. He flipped opened to a page. A smiling princess with a highlighter pink dress and a gaudy tiara sparkled. "...A beautiful princess in a faraway land," he read aloud. God, who wrote this crap? He shut the book, and then his eyes._

_"Really, daddy?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"She's a princes?" said Sybbie. She tugged on his arm until he opened his eyes._

_"Yes, love, she's a princess." Yes, Sybil had been his princess. A beautiful, courageous, strong princess._

_"Okay, daddy." Tom felt Sybbie wriggle under the covers, and hug the big plush zebra Auntie Mary had given her. Tom wrapped his arm around her and breathed deeply. Finally, sleep..._

_"Daddy!" Tom felt a hard poke on his arm and he jolted up. Sybbie stared at him accusingly. "You have to sleep in your own bed!"_

_Tom lazily rolled off the other side of Sybbie's bed, his eyes scrunched together. "Alright, love," he whispered. Sybbie snuggled in the blankets, and he stumbled back to his room he where collapsed on the bed._

**THE PRESENT**

_OH NO OH NO OH NO_

"Sybbie, love..." He started, then trailed off. Oh God. How did one go about having this conversation? Yes, he had anticipated the question. For four years it had been lingering there, hovering on the edge of the the life he led with Sybbie in Ireland. Four years, and it had never come up. Deep down, he was glad. The last thing he wanted to do was recount the worst day of his life, especially to his daughter. And she was so young.

_I can't tell her the truth. I can't. But I can't let her keep believing her mother's a PRINCESS._

_Can I?_

Sybbie was still staring at him. Tom had to make a choice.

"Sybbie..." he started again.

"Daddy, I want the princess costume, so I can be a princess like mummy!" reiterated Sybbie.

"Okay, Sybbie," said Tom. "You can be a princess. Like mummy."

The words were out before he could stop them. He was still standing in shock when Sybbie returned with a sky-blue princess dress with garish pink roses and a gold tiara. And when he got home, and packed the princess costume into Sybbie's suitcase for the trip to Downton, and tucked her into bed, he sank into one of the kitchen chairs and thought only one thing:

_What the fuck have I done?_

* * *

Two days later, this thought was still going through Tom's head as he stood in the drawing room of Downton Abbey, awkwardly holding a glass of punch. He and Sybbie had arrived yesterday just in time for dinner. She had been ecstatic to see her Granny and and Grandpapa, and her Great-Granny Violet. Tom had been a little less enthusiastic, especially around his father-in-law Robert. He and Robert were on much better terms now than they were, say, about two months after he married Sybil. But he was certain Robert would never be comfortable with the fact that his youngest daughter had married the part-time chauffeur, even if it was 21st century and he was a journalist now at a well-respected newspaper.

Now it was 6:00 on Halloween, and party guests were due to arrive any minute. Matthew was hanging up orange and black streamers, and Mary was laying out pumpkin-shaped cookies on a tray.

"I never pegged you as a party-planning type," said Tom to Mary.

Mary smiled at him distractedly. "Tradition," she answered. "Mama and Papa did the bulk of the organizing, as they live here, but Matthew and I pitched in."

"Auntie Mary! Uncle Matthew!" Tom whirled around as Sybbie ran into the room dressed in her princess costume. Her tiara was lopsided, and she hadn't been able to zipper up the back of the dress completely, so the sleeves sagged around her shoulders.

Mary looked up and smiled. "Sybbie, you look beautiful!" she said. "But here, turn around so I can fix your dress..."

As Mary fussed with Sybbie's costume, Tom looked on and felt a twinge of sadness. He knew, if this were another life, it would be Sybil in Mary's place. Sybil adjusting the tiara and zipping the dress and telling Sybbie her costume would be the most beautiful of the party. Though he had a feeling Sybil wouldn't have approved this particular princess costume. Sybbie would have been dressed as a more interesting princess. Mulan, maybe. Wasn't there a Scottish one that shot arrows? Marina or something?

"There you are," said Mary, standing up. "Now you're a pretty princess!"

Uh oh. Terror zapped through Tom's veins. Thankfully, Sybbie hadn't mentioned to anyone yet her mummy was a princess, for which Tom was very grateful. So far the biggest hitch he had encountered was Sybbie had wanted to wear her princess costume on the plane, and Tom couldn't find a reason to say no. Matthew had picked them up from the airport, but he spent his time talking to Tom, and when he did talk to Sybbie, he didn't remark on her odd get-up. Right now, Tom's plan was to make it through the weekend without Sybbie calling her mother a princess, rush her back to Ireland, then...

Then what? Tell her the truth. Tom knew he couldn't keep up this princess charade for much longer. And Sybbie deserved to know the truth. No matter how hard it was for him, he would tell her.

Right now, however, he had a disaster to avert. Sybbie already had a huge smile on her face, and was nodding at Mary's remark. "Yeah! Auntie Mary, I'm a princess like-"

"Sybbie, why don't we go show Granny Cora your costume!" Tom hastily broke in. He grabbed Sybbie hand and led her out the room. "She's in the dining room right? Great thanks bye!" he called to a very confused Mary and Matthew. He and Sybbie barreled into the dining room. "Cora-"

"Tom!" Edith turned around in surprise. She and Cora were standing underneath the grand painting that hung above the end of the table. "You're wearing a costume!"

"Oh...yeah, I found this in the back of my closet," stammered out Tom. Last minute he threw a black cape, a top hat, and vampire fangs into his suitcase. It wasn't the most creative costume, but he knew it would be passable.

"Well, I'll add you two to my list then," said Edith with a smile. She pulled a huge yellow legal pad out of her purse. "One Demon Circus Ringmaster—"

"Vampire," said Tom.

"—and a princess," finished Edith.

"I'm a princess!" yelled Sybbie.

"Sybbie, indoor voice, please," said Tom.

"Granny Cora," said Sybbie excitedly, "Do you like my costume? Do you like my costume?"

"Oh, you look lovely!" said Cora. "Why don't you give us a twirl?"

Sybbie spun around, again and again, giggling the whole time. "She's really getting into this whole princess thing," said Edith, watching the scene with amused speculation. "This morning she told me she wanted to fly on a unicorn to a faraway land. Why is that?"

Tom felt himself grow hot._ I should tell her. Edith will understand. She won't judge._ But while his brain said that, his mouth disagreed. "Aren't all little girls like that?" he said with a little laugh.

Edith looked a skeptical. "I suppose..." she said.

"And anyway, she probably picked it up from school or somewhere. Kids, right?" Tom said, and laughed a little too loud.

Edith nodded. "Yeah, that's probably it." She smiled and laid a hand on her large stomach.

"Edith! Mama!" Mary opened the dining room door and poked her head in. "Anna and John are here, and another car just pulled up."

"Oh my god, I need to get dressed!" Edith's eyes flew wide open. "I'll pop upstairs and be really quick." She grabbed her purse and bolted to the door. Mary joined her, muttering about how she was never planning another party again. That left Tom with Sybbie and Cora, who was already in her costume—Mary Poppins, complete with the black umbrella and carpet bag.

"Well," said Cora, adjusting her hat, "I guess it's showtime."

"I can't wait to tell everyone I'm princess!" exclaimed Sybbie.

Tom winced.

* * *

Half an hour later, Tom had to admit this night might not be a total disaster. The drawing room was packed with guests, a lot of them people he knew, and Sybbie hadn't mentioned "The Subject", as he had started calling it in his head. Right now she was twirling in her costume for Anna and John, who were dressed as Salt and Pepper.

Tom sighed and scanned the room. Mary was talking to Matthew by the fireplace; Matthew was dressed as a firefighter, and Mary was dressed in a vintage 1912 red dress that she had found in a trunk in the attic. The dress had belonged to her great-grandmother. In the other corner Robert, dressed as a rather portly pumpkin, was talking to Anthony and Edith, Sherlock Holmes and Alice in Wonderland respectively.

"Enjoying the party?" To jumped, then relaxed upon seeing it was Matthew

"I'm just glad Sybbie's having fun," said Tom. _Translation: No, but I don't to admit why._

Matthew continued staring at Tom. "Tom," he said, "Is there something on your mind?"

Tom looked at him in alarm. Did he know something?

"It's just, I've noticed you've looked unsettled all weekend. And you look so miserable at this party I'm surprised the grinning Jack-O-Lantern on the table hasn't committed suicide," said Matthew.

Tom let out a nervous laugh. "Trust me, I'm fine."

"Because if you're not," continued Matthew, "You can talk to me."

Matthew looked so sincere that Tom began to doubt his "don't tell" policy. These were his friends. His family. And they all loved Sybil as much as he did. Of course they would understand. Right? Especially Matthew. He was probably the least judgmental of the bunch. So Tom made a decision.

"Actually," he said, "There is something—"

"Is that Rose?" exclaimed Matthew.

Tom looked in the direction Matthew was, and immediately understood his shock. Rose was, to put it delicately, the "wild one" of the family. Every family get-together was an excuse for Rose to show off the latest crazy fashion or tell a story of the most recent questionably-legal excursion she had gone on. Tom had even heard a rumor that she was dating a married man.

"Wow," said Matthew. "She looks so..."

"Normal," concluded Tom.

Indeed, Rose was wearing a pink, floor length dress with puffed sleeves that covered her shoulders and arms. The bodice was gold, and she held a wand and tiara.

"What was she wearing last year? I heard it was rather risqué," said Tom.

"I think the question you mean to ask is 'what was Rose not wearing last year?' And to answer that, it was what some might call a Slutty Bumblebee Costume. Oh, she's coming this way," said Matthew quickly.

"Hey fellas!" yelled Rose, causing half the party-guests to turn their heads. She stopped right in front of them and brushed out her skirt.

"Hi, Rose," said Tom. "Um, you liking the party?"

"Uhh, no way," said Rose with a roll of her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not staying long. I'm just making an appearance to please Mum and Dad, then I'm hightailing it out of here. I've got a friend of mine whose holding this party in a barn that's supposedly haunted. It's going to be cuh-_razy_."She took a swig of punch.

Yep, that was the Rose that Tom knew. He recalled something Sybil said once about her after a trip to her family's castle in Scotland. "She's like an ADHD version of me, but with no life plans or causes in life," she complained.

"We like your costume," said Matthew.

"Really? I think it's kinda lame. Mum picked it out. The package said it's fairytale princess or something," said Rose.

"Princess?" said Tom suddenly. _Uh oh_.

"Yeah," said Rose, frowning at the dress. Then she looked up at them with a mischievous grin."Don't tell my Mum, but I packed this gorgeous corset I picked up at the lingerie shop for the other party. I'm pairing it with a pair of heels and black stockings. Great, Right?"

"What costume is that supposed to be?" asked Matthew

Rose shrugged. "I dunno. I'll think of something when I get there." She drained her punch glass. "Well, it was nice talking to you two, but I need alcohol if I'm going to make it through this party. Ta-Ta!" With that she was heading towards the open bar in the other drawing room.

"At least it's nice to know some things never change," said Matthew as he watched her walk away.

"Aye," agreed Tom

"So is this what a Demon Circus Ringmaster looks like?" Tom heard a familiar Northern accent ask. He grinned and turned around. "Gwen!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm with Anna," The familiar red-head said. She enveloped Tom in a hug. "Gosh, I feel like it's been ages since I saw you! How have you been? How's Sybbie?

"Oh, good, though she's recently discovered that painting her hair with yellow watercolors does not, in fact, turn her blonde," he said. Gwen laughed. "And I'm a vampire, by the way," added Tom

"Really? Edith's going around saying you're a Demon Circus Ringmaster," said Gwen

"Demon Circus Ringmaster? I thought you were a Magician," said Matthew.

"Vampire. See the fangs?" Tom clicked his fake teeth.

"Oh, look!" cried Gwen, pointing. "Is that not the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

Tom looked where Gwen was pointing—and felt his heart stop. Rose was talking to Sybbie, and he could hear what they were saying.

"So you're actually a princess?" asked Sybbie wide-eyed.

"Oh my god," said Tom in horror.

"Let's get closer," said Gwen eagerly.

"No! Um, I mean, I think it's Sybbie's bedtime—"

"C'mon, it'll be fun," insisted Matthew. Gwen grabbed Tom's hand and steered him toward Rose and Sybbie. Matthew followed.

"Do you live in a castle?" asked Sybbie as the trio parked about 2 feet from the conversation

Rose smiled widely. "Oh, yes," she said. "Me and my friends all get together everyday to have tea in my castle."

"Wow!" said Sybbie. "And do you have princes?."

Rose nodded. "Uh-huh. Very handsome ones" She noticed the trio and winked.

"What's going on here?" Tom felt his muscles tense to see Mary and Cora join the group.

"Rose is telling Sybbie all about her life as a princess," explained Matthew.

"Well, don't let us stop!" said Cora.

"Actually, I think she should stop—"

"Do you know other princesses too?" asked Sybbie. Her eyes were eager

"Oh, yes!" said Rose. "I see them everyday."

Alarm was beginning to creep into Tom. _Rose, please shut up_, he silently pleaded.

"Do you know my mummy?" asked Sybbie

The question caught Rose off guard, and she froze up. "Well," she said slowly. "I do know her, yeah." She threw Tom a look.

Sybbie didn't notice. "You know my mummy? Because she's a princess too!" said Sybbie.

"Wait, what did she say?" asked Mary.

"Okay, you know what? I think it's time this little one went to bed." Tom rushed forward and picked Sybbie up. "Goodnight—"

"Daddy, I want to talk to the princess!" wailed Sybbie.

"Sweetie, she's not a princess, she's one of Daddy's friends," said Tom.

"Tom, what did she mean when she said her mummy was a princess?" said Mary.

Tom opened his mouth—to say what, he didn't know—but Sybbie beat him to it. "Daddy says mummy's a princess and that's why she can't visit me and I want to talk to the princess so I can meet her!"

There was a shocked silence. Cora was the first to break it. "Tom, is this true?" she said. She looked thunderstruck.

Tom began to sweat. Sybbie wriggled and moaned in his arms. "I..." he said helplessly.

"What is everyone crowded over here for?" boomed familiar voice.

Tom slowly pivoted and found himself face-to-face with his father-in-law, Robert Crawley, who was wearing a stern expression. And in that moment, Tom wished with all his heart the floor would swallow him up.

Only one person tried to diffuse the tension in the room. And that was Rose.

"Robert, uhmm," she said, "I'm a princess!" She threw up he hands and did a twirl. "See?" Her face held a desperate look. She looked very much the way Tom felt.

"So is mummy!" yelled Sybbie. Party guests began to glance their way.

"Sybbie, indoor voice," hissed Tom.

"What is going on?" demanded Robert "Why does Sybbie keep calling Sybil a princess?"

"Because I told her, alright? I told her her mother was a princess!" exploded Tom.

The drawing room quieted, and every guest in the room snapped their attention on the odd group in the corner.

"Tom, I think we should have a talk," Cora said quietly. She grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him towards the dining room. "Mary, Matthew, why don't you take Sybbie to her room."

"C'mon, Sybbie," said Mary. She stretched out her arms. Tom reluctantly handed over a very wriggly and whiny Sybbie over to her Auntie. She still had tears in her eyes as Matthew and Mary carried her away. Before Tom could say anything, Cora and sequestered him and Robert in the dining room. She slammed the door.

"Right," said Cora. "If I may ask, Tom—"

"Mama? What's going on?" Edith pushed opened the door and waddled over to the trio. Anthony trailed behind her. "Larry Grey said there was some commotion in the drawing room."

"I know," said Tom wearily. "And I can explain." He looked at everyone in the room, and felt dread creeping into him. It was confession time.

"I...told Sybbie her mother was a princess, and that that was the reason she wasn't around. That's why she wanted to dress up as princess and why she wants to meet 'other princesses'. Because she thinks she going to meet her mummy."

A stunned silence descended upon the room. Robert, Edith, and Anthony stared at Tom in shock. Cora, hearing this news for the second, only looked sorry for him.

Tom turned away from them. He didn't want any of it. Not their pitying stares; not their 'helpful suggestions'. He hadn't wanted it when Sybil died and he didn't want it now.

"Tom..." It was Edith speaking. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to find himself looking at the sincere face of his sister-in-law.

"You have to tell her," she said. It was an order, not a suggestion. "She deserves the truth. And..." She took a breath. "I know it's hard—"

"Oh, do you?" Tom whirled around. He suddenly felt this fury inside him, fury at all of them. "You know what it's like to lose the one person you love most in the world, and then watch that person's daughter, who looks exactly like her, grow up?" His voice was getting dangerously louder, and directed his gaze to all the people in the room, not just Edith. "You know what it's like to see her, and know, no matter what you do, no matter what you give her, it will never—" He yelled 'never' so that it echoed off the walls "—_never_ be enough?"

Tom knew he was going to far. Edith and Cora's eyes were wide, and Robert had stepped forward and put his hand on Cora's arm, as if protecting her. But for once, Tom didn't care. It felt so good, to let the rage pour our of him.

"I know," he yelled. "I know what it's like, and it's torture—"

_"For God's sake, Tom, she was my sister!"_

Toms stopped yelling, and just stared at Edith. Her face was flushed, and set in a scowl. "I do know, alright? I know what it's like to miss her!" she said angrily. "All of us know. So don't ever act like we don't feel it, or that's it's less painful for us!"

The dining room was so silent, you could hear the guests in the drawing room through the thick wooden door. The stunned faces that had previously gawked at Tom were now staring at Edith. Tom stared too, and immediately, began to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. Edith realized she was the center of attention, and her angry exterior began to falter.

"Tom, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted—"

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said what I said before."

"Tom." It was Robert now. His outraged look of earlier was now replaced with sympathy.

"Please understand...we're all on your side," said Lord Grantham. "We care for you and Sybbie. And we want her to know her mother. The real Sybil Crawley. Not this princess you've created to distract her."

For the first time in many months, Tom looked at his father-in-law, and didn't feel resentment. In that moment, he suddenly recalled what he had said to Sybil years earlier, when he was still the part-time chauffeur: _He's a good man, and a decent employer_.

"I'll tell her tonight," said Tom, his gaze fixed on Robert.

"Do you want us to be with you?" asked Cora.

"No," he said. "I have to do this on my own."

* * *

Through the door, Tom could hear Mary reading to Sybbie. He instantly recognized the words. "... And then the handsome Prince married the beautiful Princess, and they lived Happily Ever After. The End." He remembered packing it in her bag, at her insistence. Tom knocked on the door. "Sybbie? It's Da.

Mary answered the door. "Hello Tom," she said, closing the door behind her. She lowered her voice. "Sybbie kept asking about her mother, so I distracted her with a story. I think she's really confused, Tom."

"I know," he said. "And I'm going to clear it up, I promise."

Mary nodded. "I'll leave you to it, then." She made her way to the stairs and then she was gone, leaving Tom alone. He stared at the foreboding wooden door for a few seconds, then opened it.

The room Sybbie was staying in was an old nursery that had been renovated into a guest room. The walls were adorned with graying wallpaper decorated with teddies and dolls and toy soldiers. A large rocking horse stood under the window, and a blue dollhouse with white trim sat pressed in the corner. The front of the house was opened, revealing miniature rooms, and an array of wooden figurines were scattered on the floor (Sybbie's doing, Tom surmised). In the middle of the room was a small wooden bed with pink sheets and a white comforter. And in the bed was Sybbie.

"Da!" she said. "Auntie Mary read me a story, but she wasn't as good as you. Will you read it to me?" She held up the princess book with a wide smile.

"Not now, love. We're going to have a talk," Tom said.

"Uh oh," Sybbie said, her face falling. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, love." The bed was too small to comfortably fit both of them, so he awkwardly lowered himself onto the edge of a tiny chair beside the bed. He interlocked his fingers.

"Sybbie," he said, "You know how I said your mummy's a princess?"

"Yeah," said Sybbie slowly.

"Well," said Tom, "Sometimes I say things to make you feel better. And..." Tom hesitated, then finally said, "Saying your mother was a princess was one of those things."

"So she's not a princess?" said Sybbie. She looked confused.

"No, sweetie. Your mother...well, you know how Father Richards talks about Heaven at Church? That's where your mother is. In Heaven."

Tom watched Sybbie. Her expression from confusion to distress. "In Heaven? But...that's where Granpapa's dog Isis went. And now, I never see her."

"That's right, love. She's with Isis."

"So...she's not going to visit me?"

Tom could feel a stinging sensation in his eyes. "No love, she's not going to visit."

"Oh," said Sybbie. She leaned back into her pillow. And then she started to cry.

"Oh, love," said Tom. He reached over and enveloped Sybbie in a hug. "It's okay," whispered Tom. "Because you have me and Auntie Mary and Edith and everybody else here for you. And we all love you just as much as she did."

"But, daddy," sobbed Sybbie, "Everybody else has a mummy."

Tom squeezed his eyes shut to barricade the tears. "I know," he said.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Tom let Sybbie cry on his shoulder, until she pulled away and leaned against the headboard. Her eyes and nose were red, and she looked ten times more tired than she had five minutes earlier. "Here, love," he said. "Do you want to see a picture of her?"

Sybbie nodded through her sniffles. Tom rifled through his wallet until he found the picture he always carried of her. "This is your mummy," said Tom.

The photo was of Sybil on a picnic they had gone on. It had been a sunny Saturday in April, a rarity, and they packed a picnic on a whim. She was full of life in the photo: hair falling out of her ponytail, a hand on the small bump on her stomach that was Sybbie, and the smile, the huge, bright smile that seemed to burst out the photo. Sybbie gently took the photo and held it in both hands, close to her face. "She was pretty," said Sybbie.

"Yes, love," said Tom with a small smile. "Like you. In fact, you're named after her."

"Really?" said Sybbie. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah."

"Da?"

"Yes?"

"When did mummy go to Heaven?

Tom had completely forgotten about this part of the talk: The How. The nervous, squirmy feeling began in his stomach again. _C'mon, Tom. You made it this far._ "She died when you were born," said Tom.

"How?" asked Sybbie. She looked up from the photo.

Tom stood up from the chair. "I'll tell you when you're older," said Tom. "Right now," he said, and leaned over Sybbie, "its time for you to get some sleep, okay, love?" He kissed her forehead.

Tom thought Sybbie might persist for an answer, but instead she just said a quiet "okay'' and snuggled into the comforter. Tom turned off the light and was ready to close the door when he hear "Dad?"

Tom turned around. "Yes, love?"

Sybbie was sitting up in bed and staring straight at him. "Next Halloween, I don't want to be a princess. I want to be a ninja."

* * *

The next day Tom and Sybbie flew back to Ireland. The minute they arrived home and unpacked their suitcases, they hopped back in the car and drove to the cemetery where Sybil was buried. Sitting with Sybbie in front of Sybil's grave, Tom was flooded with memories: seeing Sybil the first time she rode in the car, their marriage in the church he had grown up with, the day they moved into their apartment. There were bad memories, too; Sybil writhing in pain in the delivery room, her vacant gaze when her pulse stopped, the fight that ensued between him and Robert about where the body would be buried. Neither Sybbie nor Tom spoke much. Tom told Sybbie more about Sybil, about how she was a nurse and how she met Tom when he was the driver at Downton Abbey, and Sybbie clutched the photo in her fist until it began to bend. When they left, after almost an hour of sitting on damp grass, they ran into the groundskeeper, a portly man who looked to be in his 70s, who was carrying a rake.

"Nice little girl, you've got there," he said. Sybbie was standing by the car, kicking her heel against one of the tires.

"Aye," said Tom. "She's wonderful."

The groundskeeper informed Tom he had to get back to work. "You both take care now," called the groundskeeper as Tom unlocked the car. "And good luck." He waved the rake.

"Thank you," replied Tom.

"Bye," yelled Sybbie, waving her arms.

Tom strapped Sybbie in the back seat and they headed home. Sybbie told Tom that she wanted to bring her mummy's picture for show and tell, and how she would be really careful with it, and how Brandon Maguire once brought his pet lizard to show and tell with out the teacher's permission and it escaped and they had to evacuate the room. Tom listened to her prattle on about other school adventures, and remembered what the groundskeeper had said. He grinned as Sybbie launched into a story about how a teacher's hair once caught on fire.

He had a feeling they would both be okay.

The End


End file.
